


The Blonde & The Brunette

by iamnotanegg



Series: The Duke [1]
Category: David Bowie (Musician), Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Jareth - Freeform, Labyrinth - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotanegg/pseuds/iamnotanegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picture Hours Bowie, that's all I'm saying.<br/>One shot.<br/>Trial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blonde & The Brunette

“What was I to do, father; let her rot in the oubliette?” Jareth huffed and paced furiously with arms writhing malgraciously in the air. He had been trotting back and forth with a disgruntled front from the second he entered his father’s study. His father, the High – King of the Underground, sat slouched behind the wooden desk, idly flipping through letters and invitations from neighboring realms.

“That blasted dwarf was supposed to lead her back to the beginning! The beginning, father; the beginning!” Came Jareth’s louder snarl, almost glaring at the king. “But nooooo!” Jareth exasperates; light on his feet while his gloved fist crushes his palm in disdain. “What does this ungrateful, sac of treacherous… Insignificant…. Moronic…. Imb… Imb…” Jareth pauses; bloodshot eyes and nostrils flaring like a dragon about to blow steam. “Ugh… THIS IMBECILE! What does he do instead, you ask?”

The King raises his finger in protest but utters no word as he is quickly interrupted by the furiously enraged prince and his murderous demonstrations. He quietly lowers his hand back on top of the pile that was idly cradled over his lap. He then licked his lips, chewing on it briefly before resuming today’s agenda of casually tossing intricately sealed envelopes onto the floor. By his feet crouched a trembling goblin, clad in a tattered ensemble of dirt – covered pancho of sort as opposed to its shiny, silver pot for a hat.

“BETRAYS ME!” Jareth yelled in fury; all grace and decorum swiftly rid of his system at an instant. Lean arms flung over the desk and toppled everything in a single run; quill, parchments of varying importance, the king’s goblet of the finest wine, and miniature ceramics. “I have given him life, generous roof over his pathetic excuse of existence, food, clothing and a simple, bloody task of… of…. Argh!” 

The Goblin King raged on; slamming both his fists on the now emptied desk, sneering and hissing with teeth barred. “I should’ve had him devour that bloody peach and replaced each of in attendance into flesh – eating mongrels that would gobble him up in an insta----“

Suddenly, brows creased and Jareth, in a very slow and dramatic fashion, turned to the man that had turned his interest into lighting a pipe. Irked by the lack of attention, Jareth grunted and cocked his head to the side, brow convolutedly high. Quickly yanking the pile of seemingly ignored letters, Jareth uncaringly tossed them out the open window. “Father, are you even listening to a damn word I----“

“So you lost.” The King remained in his stance; bit clamped by the corner of his lip, bowl slightly lit with a shy lunt, leg folded over his knee. His eyes, however, turned only to address the blonde – maned prince whom had tarnished the pristine stature of his study. 

“I did not lose, father. I gave her a choice.” Came the defensive Goblin King; head held high while eyes averted almost as if in shame. It scarred him deeply; how his efforts and sincerity was easily overlooked by naivety. It had been approximately a year, six months, two weeks, three days, sixteen hours, twenty – three minutes and forty nin--- no; fifty seconds of endless torment. His ego had been scathed, his heart scorned and his soul absolutely in shambles. In fact, he had gotten so depressed over the said time that he had to temporarily migrate back home after the Bog of Eternal Stench had overflown.  
Though the said issue can be remedied by magic, Jareth’s depressed state had drained him so much that he could barely transform himself into an owl. He had to be chauffeured by the Royal Assembly back to the Grand Castle.

"Jared that is not very nice!" 

Orbs of celestial magnificence coated in the purest of blue, lips ripe of vitality and elegance in the manner of which this Elysian beauty of a woman spoke; locks of gold dulcetly flowing with the grace of her motion as she hurried towards her son's aid. Arms wrapped protectively over the young prince's head, pulled into the warmth of her bosom. Her heart raced with worry as any mother would; fingers strummed gently over the younger male's cheek while she peppered his temple and crown. 

"Darling, my baby boy, are you alright?" Eyes soft and full of worry. "My goodness, you've gone thin! Just look at you…" The woman pauses, frowning as she stares vindictively at the young prince. “You’ve gone pale, my darling. Who is to blame? I shall have them beheaded post haste!” Of course, she exaggerates of Jareth’s features as all mothers occasionally do. “Guards!”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be rash, my darling.” Aired the King, rising from his chair, pipe in hand. “There will be no beheading or any of that sort.” Palms soon found the woman’s slender waist, guiding her towards the door. “Since our darling boy’s had gone home, why don’t you go over the arrangements for tonight’s banquet, yes?”

Before the Queen could protest, the King had already pushed her out the door, kicked it shut and locked it from the inside; all after which he quaintly pecked his lover’s bare shoulder goodbye. Now with his back against the door, lunt heavy and thickened, the King ran his fingers along the dark – brown fields of his crown, that elegantly fell over his shoulders. Peripherals the same hue as of the Goblin King, built a bit larger in frame and of age.

“Now, where we were we…?” He inhaled sharply and hummed, blowing a cloud as he returned to his seat and merely held the pipe with a slightly sardonic grin. “Oh right my boy, you lost and then what happened?” 

Oh, he was teasing all right; taunting his son as how he would poke fun at him for losing a bet and granting Jareth supremacy over the entire Underground Realm. In fact, Jareth is technically the High King of the Underground; but with a bit of a wager between him and his old man and Jareth losing to Sarah, Jared resumes the title.

Jareth gritted his teeth in silence, glaring with his pupils fixated on the upper right corner of his eyes. Arms folded with a stern jaw, he replied calmly. “You became king again. Let’s face it father, you’re old news. You can’t run your reign without my support and the only reason you’re back on that throne is because of a little mishap down the Goblin City.” He proudly flung his head back, hair bouncing and tugged of his celestial features. 

“You’re right, Jareth.” He nodded calmly, rising from his chair and taking a hit at his pipe again. “I am old news.” A bitter sigh, followed by a hand taking Jareth by the chin, cooing as he had done so when Jareth was fairly young. “But I think I’d rather lay – low this time, love.” With a wink, he retracted his hand, shoved it inside his chest pocket to conjure an envelope and tapped it against Jareth’s chest. “Blondie Bachelor Busted on the First Date; read the full story on page four.”

Irked and baffled, Jareth scurried to open the envelope containing heartfelt regards from neighboring realms while Jared, the High King, turns towards the door and steps out. “Not a strand of gold on these locks, my boy.” 

A faint of maniacal laughter echoed until the door had once more kissed its hinges.


End file.
